


in the space between my half-closed eyes

by neo_gotmyback



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety Attacks, Doyoung is Jeno's mentor? or something, Friends With Benefits, Happy Ending, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung Has Anxiety, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung-centric, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Taeyong and Doyoung are fwb pining for each other, ambiguously american
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neo_gotmyback/pseuds/neo_gotmyback
Summary: Taeyong was the one unpredictable variable in Doyoung’s life, crashing into every wall and neatly ordered pathway in his brain until they’d crumbled to dust. Taeyong was a mistake Doyoung kept making.ORDoyoung tries to be okay with what he can get from Taeyong. This proves difficult.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung & Lee Jeno, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 9
Kudos: 204





	in the space between my half-closed eyes

**Author's Note:**

> The experiences with anxiety I portray are based on my personal experiences, specifically, the panic attacks and touch sensitivity. I try not to be too graphic or triggering but if you think seeing those things portrayed or alluded to will be triggering to you please take care of your mental health and don’t read this story.

Doyoung liked plans. He liked lists, his life laid out in front of him to be checked off as he made his way towards a goal he’d finalized far ahead of time.

It was how he held back the fear, the panic that flooded his veins when he thought about the future. Sticking to plans kept him from falling apart at the seams.

He spent Monday and Wednesday afternoons doing his archive research, and Tuesday and Thursday tutoring for some extra cash. He spent his Friday nights curled up on the couch catching up on his dramas, and Saturday morning cooking breakfast for Jeno and whichever of his friends he decided to bring over that week. He worked the rest of the time to finish his assignments and do his grading for the classes he TA-ed for.

Sometimes, if Ten invited him, he’d go out on Saturday night, drinking just enough to be barely tipsy, and forget the list for a few hours in a blur of music and chaos.

He was happy with his life. Everything was going as planned.

Except for one thing.

Doyoung hadn’t planned this. Of course, he rarely did. He’d planned to fall asleep in front of his TV during his Friday night tradition. He’d had a long week at school, he needed the distraction this week more than ever.

The doorbell had rang an hour into Kingdom. And now, he was here, watching the flickering multicolor light of the tv cast Taeyong’s jaw, his cheekbones into deep shadow.

Doyoung couldn’t help but watch him, even as Taeyong seemed fixated on the show.

He needed a distraction too, he’d claimed. _I don’t want to be alone, Doie._

Doyoung watched the slow blink of Taeyong’s long, long lashes, his gray dyed hair fanning out slightly against the dark pillows of Doyoung’s couch.

Taeyong was the one unpredictable variable in Doyoung’s life, crashing into every wall and neatly ordered pathway in his brain until they’d crumbled to dust.

Because Taeyong only sought him out at night, only wanted fun, and this was no way to look towards to the future by letting himself fall into a hole he knew he couldn’t get out of on his own.

Taeyong tilted his head further back, exposing the line of his neck, his sharp jaw. Doyoung could have sworn he’d cut his eyes towards him, a quick glance, but in the light of only the television he couldn’t be entirely sure.

Doyoung exhaled, careful, soft.

Then he reached over for the remote, and paused the show.

Taeyong didn’t react for a moment, then turned to look at Doyoung.

“Same as last time?” Doyoung asked, voice low but carrying easily in the sudden silence of the apartment.

Taeyong raised his eyes to meet Doyoung’s and smiled, looking too angelic for the neon lighting from the paused tv screen.

“Yes,” Taeyong breathed.

When Doyoung captured his lips, holding that jaw firm with one hand as they shifted position, the other reaching up to pin Taeyong’s hands over his head.

He lost himself in the feeling of Taeyong, Taeyong, Taeyong, burying the parts of him that screamed at him for making this choice again.

For letting himself fall deeper when he knows this is all he’s going to get. For letting himself make this mistake over and over when he knew he’d have to pick up the pieces of himself all by himself tomorrow morning.

* * *

Doyoung woke up to the sound of the door opening and a voice yelling “Hyung?” as they entered.

Doyoung rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, squinting in the bright light coming in from the window of his bedroom.

There was no sign of Taeyong. Doyoung didn’t let himself feel anything about that. It was the same as every other time.

“Jeno?” He called standing up and stretching. “I’ll be out soon to make breakfast, hold on.”

Jeno was one of the few people who had a key to Doyoung’s apartment, and he let himself in for their Saturday morning tradition more often than not.

Doyoung let himself review the events of last night one more time. Let himself think about the way Taeyong had looked under him, the sounds he’s made, how unbelievably beautiful he was.

Then he exhaled, ignoring the sick feeling building in the pit of his stomach, and shoved the memories as far away as he could.

When he met Jeno, it was with a smile and a hug.

Jeno beamed back, his eye-smile in full force this morning as Doyoung puttered around the kitchen, pulling out eggs and bread for breakfast.

“Why was Taeyong hyung here?” Jeno asked, a hint of concern in his voice as he asks the question. “I ran into him on the way into the building.”

Doyoung willed himself not to freeze at the question. He kept cracking the eggs into a bowl as he answered. “Oh, he just came over to watch dramas yesterday and I didn’t want him to drive home too late.”

“Oh, okay! You could have asked him to stay for breakfast, I wouldn’t have minded!” Jeno added quickly.

Doyoung smiled at Jeno, hoping it wasn’t as plastic as it felt. “He had his own plans. Besides, I like our little tradition enough with just the two of us.”

He pushed away the feelings, and brought up a new topic sure to distract him. “How’s your math class going?”

“It’s so bad!” Jeno said, slumping dramatically on the counter. “I feel like giving up on homework, what’s the point of fifty question problem sets!”

Doyoung laughed. “Bring it over next time, I’ll see if I can help. Are you taking care of yourself at least?”

“Ah really, hyung! Thank would be great. And,” Jeno paused, raising his head to look Doyoung in the eyes. “I’m doing okay. Jaemin’s there to keep me from getting myself worked up, usually.”

“Good.” Doyoung smiled at him, reassuring. “You know you can always call if you need to, okay?”

Jeno grinned at him, bright, and Doyoung let himself forget last night had even happened.

* * *

Doyoung felt like a broken music box, some days. He lived so close to the edge of falling apart, all skipped notes and awkward pauses, just barely coherent as the original song he was made to play.

He felt pathetic, most days, the fears and anxiety keeping his shoulders tight, his replies a little bit too terse, his nails biting crescent moons into his palm as he read over the lists of assignments he still had to do before Monday came around.

His pulse lifted, racing so fast he could feel it pumping in his wrists, in his neck. His breaths grew shallow, his chest grew tight, and he couldn’t stand it, he was going to break into a million pieces. His skin crawled and he wanted to break something, tear into his skin and fix himself until he was perfect.

He cried until he was gasping for air, feeling like someone was punched a hole in his chest and drained away his soul.

He made a list of all his work, broken down into as many pieces as possible, and checked each one off the list as he went. He put a band aid over the place on his arm where he’d accidentally scratched himself with a pencil in his panic.

He finished the assignments.

* * *

He goes out next weekend, because Ten asked him to.

Ten was free in a way Doyoung envied, his smile ever present, answering questions about his future with a fluid shrug and a quick “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

He didn’t understand how he had managed to fit so perfectly with Kun, who was calm, endlessly patient, with as much of his future planned out as Doyoung (though much closer to achieving it than Doyoung ever would be).

However they managed it, they matched perfectly, Kun’s hands wrapped around Ten’s waist when Ten waved him over from where he stood by the bar.

“Doie! You decided to stop hiding in your apartment and show off your pretty face!” Ten said brightly, throwing his arms around Doyoung as soon as he’d reached them.

Doyoung stumbled a bit from the force of the hug, and Kun grinned at him as he pried his boyfriend off him.

“He pregamed a bit,” Kun explained sheepishly. Ten was affectionate when drunk, and somehow had even less of a filter.

“Oh, Doie! Taeyong, Johnny, Sicheng, and Yuta are here too! You’re late you need to catch up.” Ten placed the shot glass into his hands with a blinding smile.

His fingers curled around the glass, tipping the drink down his throat to keep the tremor in his fingers from giving him away.

He could use the alcohol, as it was, even if he hated the taste of whatever Ten had picked out.

“Jae and Taeil were busy?” Doyoung asked, ignoring the burn as it went past his sternum.

“Yeah, they had some project they needed to finish.” Kun shrugged. “But everyone else is around here somewhere.”

Doyoung should have known Taeyong was coming. He was friends with Ten, after all, from the same dance program, and he was a pretty fixed part of their group.

But he was always blindsided by him– always forgetting he didn’t just exist in Doyoung’s darkened living room or in his bed.

“Doyoung!” Johnny’s warm voice carried even over the sound of the music as the group made their way towards them.

Taeyong was there too, half draped over Yuta as he walked– he’d always been a lightweight. Their eyes met and everything hung suspended for a minute as Doyoung took in Taeyong, looking just as beautiful in the dim light as he always did, makeup glittering around his eyes and lines of his outfit trying to draw Doyoung’s eyes to his waist.

And Taeyong beamed at him, his eyes sparkling and wide and Doyoung felt like he was about to be swallowed whole. He looked away abruptly to greet Sicheng and Johnny, and missed the way Taeyong’s smile dropped when he didn’t return it.

* * *

Doyoung didn’t dance– at least not sober, and not around his friends who are on their way to dance professionally. So he nursed a significantly less nasty tasting drink and watched the others, waiting for the buzz of the alcohol to kick in.

Well, he said he was watching the others. He was watching Taeyong.

Taeyong moved like a real dancer, even in a crowded club dancing to music he probably couldn’t even hear properly. And there was something in him that ached to go meet him, to press their bodies together while he danced. He thought Taeyong might even welcome it, he was drunk enough that he wouldn’t mind being seen with Doyoung.

But there were so many people there, and his skin already felt like it was too tight around his chest because of the alcohol. If anyone touched him, he might not make it out of the door in time to keep himself together.

And no one could see how broken he actually was.

So he stayed where he was, watching the twist of Taeyong’s hips and the flash of his white-grey hair as he threw his head back in a laugh.

And then he watches as someone puts their hand on his waist, and he cannot let himself be jealous when he couldn’t even go dance with him, when he ached to touch him and was too much of a coward to do it.

But Taeyong doesn’t smile, doesn’t move to dance with the handsome stranger. He backs up, pushing his way out of the crowd, throwing the stranger an apologetic smile as he turned and stumbled towards the back door through the crush of people.

Doyoung put the glass down on the counter and moved around the crowd, eyes trained on Taeyong, who wasn’t smiling anymore, scrambling towards the door and something like anger blossomed under Doyoung’s skin.

He pushed open the back door into the alley right after Taeyong and scanned it wildly, anger and panic making him almost frantic.

He found Taeyong leaning against the side of the wall, knees drawn to his chest as he hiccuped, sobbing into his palm.

Doyoung bit his lip, coming over to him, trying not to startle him. “Yong?” He asked, quiet.

Taeyong looked up at him with wide, wet eyes and held back another sob and Doyoung couldn’t stand it anymore. He slid down next to Taeyong, hand going up to pet his hair like he’d learned Taeyong liked, the other hand reaching around to rub circles into his back.

“It’ll be okay, Yongie. It’ll be okay,” Doyoung said, trying to keep his voice as steady and soothing as possible.

“You don’t understand,” Taeyong murmured. “I’m such a fucking mess and– and you didn’t even come dance with me and now you’re here and–” he breaks off to to gag, turning his face away from Doyoung.

Doyoung makes a decision, feeling his pockets for his wallet and phone, then sending a quick text to Kun.

He shifted their position so that Taeyong was leaning on his shoulder and stood up. “Come on, let’s take you home.”

Taeyong whined, loud in his ear and Doyoung was distinctly not thinking of anything in particular or the last time he’d heard that sound. “But I don’t want to be alone, Doie.”

“You’re coming to my apartment.” Doyoung said, the words rewarded with a smile that hit him in his chest.

Doyoung let his arm grip tighter around Taeyong as they waited for the Uber. Usually, this much touch after he’d already let himself have alcohol would have been too much, his skin would have been crawling and he’d be sick to his stomach. But instead, all he could think about was Taeyong being okay.

When they arrived at his apartment, he deposited Taeyong on the bed as gently as possible, taking off his shoes and contemplating whether trying to take off his makeup would be too much.

He felt a touch on his wrist when he turned to leave, and saw Taeyong looking up at him with a sleepy, half lidded gaze. “Stay with me?”

Doyoung almost gave in– he almost looked at the expectation in Taeyong’s eyes and how beautiful he still looked, still drunk and spread out on his bed. He wanted to give in, to lie down next to Taeyong and hold him through the night, and risk waking up to the empty bed again.

But he can’t. “I’m sorry, Taeyong. I can’t keep making this mistake.” he said quietly, pulling his wrist away and shutting the door behind him, not letting himself look at the hurt in Taeyong’s eyes.

The next morning he wakes up from his place on the couch at the sound of his front door slamming shut.

His phone buzzed and he groped for it along with the glasses he’s left on the table next to him.

A message from “TY” lit up the screen.

Thank you for everything Doyoung. I’m sorry, you were right. Let’s not make the same mistakes again.

Doyoung blinked at the words, willing his fingers to type out “okay” before his vision blurred too far.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again, he supposed. Even when he really, really wanted to.

* * *

The week passed in a strange sort of haze. He talked to someone, he thinks– the students in his class maybe? Or a professor when he turned in an assignment.

He was productive too– he’d gotten ahead in his research and cleaned the whole apartment, and had only forgotten to eat twice. Sitting still made him sick because it made him remember how he’d fucked up, and he didn’t want to do that.

He stopped checking his messages.

Every time he looked at the message from Taeyong his pulse picked up, the clench of nausea deep in his stomach, his mind an endless string of Taeyong and knowing he fucked this up forever like the mess he is.

His clock said it was 6 pm on Friday night when his door opened.

Doyoung looked up from his laptop, bleary eyed, towards it, as the lock clicked into place and the door swung open, revealing what looked like the blurry form of Jeno.

“Hyung we wanted to make cookies and none of the dorms have an oven can we use your kitchen?” A voice called from behind Jeno– his boyfriend, Jaemin.

“What in the– why me?” Doyoung groaned, already going to stand up to greet them.

“Your apartment is the nicest,” Jeno said, walking in and setting the ingredients on the counter. “Plus it’s drama night and I wanted to catch up on Kingdom.”

He was lying, of course. Their friend Mark had just gotten his own apartment that was much closer to the school, and Jeno didn’t like dramas.

But he didn’t say anything, just let them in and showed Jaemin how to preheat the oven. If they’d just come to make sure he hadn’t died, they probably wouldn’t ask questions, right?

Of course, he didn’t have that kind of luck. As soon as the cookies were in the oven, Jeno turned on his heels staring straight at Doyoung.

“Did you eat anything today hyung?” He asked, straight to the point.

Doyoung raised an eyebrow. “I know how to take care of myself, Jeno.”

“Yeah but not when– you know.” Jeno said, not letting up.

Doyoung sighed. “Yeah, I did. Cooking helped.” He didn’t have to specify what it helped. Jeno had seen him at his worst.

“What happened on Sunday, hyung?” Jeno asked, voice quiet.

“Nothing. I stopped myself from making a mistake and then my fucked up brain decided to go and make the situation worse.” Doyoung said, trying a weak grin. “I’ll be okay.”

“Does this have–“ Jeno began, hesitant, but he got cut off by Jaemin.

“Taeyong hyung hasn’t been the same either. I know something happened when you all went out but you’re both too stubborn to tell anyone.” Jaemin said, face twisted into a frown.

Doyoung sighed. “Yes, Taeyong was involved, but you don’t need to know all the details. Just that I fucked up, and that I’ll be fine soon.”

“How do you know you’re the one who fucked up? What happened?” Jeno asked.

“I overthought something like I always do, and broke something precious to me.” Doyoung said simply.

“Are you still fucking? Or did you stop?” Jaemin asked, blunt.

“Jaemin!” Jeno hissed. “We decided we’d be subtle!”

Doyoung stared at them both with wide eyes. “How did–”

“We’ve known you two were hooking up for a while,” Jaemin said, arms crossed over his chest.

“You did stare at him, like, all the time hyung.” Jeno said apologetically.

“Well. Then yes, we stopped. Probably because he found someone he wanted to be in a proper relationship with.” Doyoung said, fingernails digging into his palm trying to anchor his breathing.

“And you think this happened because that person couldn’t be you.” Jaemin said, sounding almost angry. Maybe he was closer to Taeyong than Doyoung remembered and was upset on his behalf.

Doyoung let the silence stretch out as he eyed the two boys carefully.

“Hyung,” Jeno finally said, voice a whisper. “You deserve a relationship too.”

Doyoung shrugged. “I’m– my mental health is enough of a burden on my friends, I wouldn’t want to put the weight of dealing with me on a boyfriend.”

“You’re more than whatever chemical imbalance there is in your goddamn brain!” Jeno said, loud and harsh, completely unlike him.

Doyoung flinched. “I–”

“No, stop it, you don’t get to say that. You’re the one who takes care of me when I fall apart. You were the first one I came out to because you were so kind and I know you would take care of me. You take the time out every week to make me breakfast because you’re worried about the food in the dorms. Hell, we showed up with no warning on a Friday night to mess up your kitchen and you just let me, because you’re kind and smart and you care about everyone around you.” Jeno said, his tears getting caught in his throat.

“You put me back together when I’m broken. If you don’t deserve then why the hell do I?” Jeno asked, Jaemin’s arms wrapping around him as he stared at Doyoung.

“Oh, Jeno– come here?” Doyoung said, voice just as soft as he opened his arms, Jeno stumbling into them. “It’s going to be okay.” He soothed.

“I know, hyung. Will you?” Jeno asked, still clinging to Doyoung. “You’re allowed to be happy, you know.”

And. Yeah. Maybe he is.

* * *

He shows up at Ten’s apartment Saturday afternoon, knowing he spends the day at home catching up on whatever coursework he missed because of practice the past week. He brought some of the cookies Jaemin and Jeno had made on Friday. There were still way too many left at his apartment for him to possibly consume alone.

“Doyoung!” Ten said, as soon as the door swung open. “Oh thank god no one heard from you after you texted Kun and–” Ten moved to hug him, then froze.

“Oh, fuck can can I hug you or is it still like. Bad?” Ten asked worriedly.

Doyoung laughed. “I’m okay.”

“Thank god,” Ten said, launching himself at Doyoung, who struggled to not drop his bag and hug him back.

“Hi Doyoung.” Kun grinned at him over Ten’s shoulder, and Doyoung held the bag out to him as gracefully as he could.

“I brought cookies,” he said when Kun took it. “Sorry for worrying you.”

“All that matters is that you’re taking care of yourself. We’re always going to worry but you’re allowed to ignore us if you need it.” Kun said, pulling out the box of cookies. “These look good!”

Ten pulled away to inspect the cookies, letting Doyoung get further into heir apartment and take off his shoes.

“You don’t– you don’t mind? Having to deal with me like this?” Doyoung asked, careful.

Ten frowned at him, a deep furrow in his brow. “Doyoung we care about you. If you need something we want to give it to you. What do you mean, deal with?”

Kun looked at him, concerned. “Does this have to do with Taeyong? Did you two break up?”

“We were never together,” Doyoung said slowly, glancing at Kun, then Ten.

“Are you saying you never got together because you were worried you were too much to deal with?” Ten asked, eyebrows raising.

Doyoung didn’t say anything.

“Oh my god you’re both ridiculous. He thinks you don’t like him because he’s too much of a mess for you.” Ten said, his voice a frustrated whine. “Why are you here, go kiss Taeyong’s disgustingly pretty face.”

Doyoung stared. “What?”

“He’s been half in love with you for like two years, and I know you like him back because you stare at him all the time so just go make out already!” Ten threw his hands in the air.

Doyoung blinked, trying to process what Ten had said. “Why? He’s– he’s Taeyong. He’s perfect, why wouldn’t I want him?”

Ten sighed. “I don’t fucking know, the same way you think you don’t deserve him despite being the most caring person in his life. He loves you and he thinks you don’t like him, this is so ridiculous.”

Doyoung let himself breathe for a moment, slow and measured. Taeyong– liked him? All those times he’d come to him, the way he’d smiled and the way he’d kissed him, those were all for Doyoung, because Taeyong wanted him, liked him, loved him.

“Look, we’re not going to tell you what to do, but Taeyong gets back from work at 6. And I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.” Kun said, softly.

“Kim Doyoung I cannot believe you didn’t know! Shut up, I love you so much and so does Taeyong, come hug me again.” Ten screeched suddenly, hugging Doyoung again.

And. Yeah. Maybe he deserved something good.

* * *

It was 6:15, and Doyoung could feel his pulse throbbing in his jaw. He breathed, focusing on the anticipation and how much he missed seeing Taeyong, pushing the anxiety away. It didn’t stop the feeling in his stomach, but he knew himself, how his brain worked, and knew he could get through this.

He breathed out with finality, and knocked on the door of Taeyong’s apartment.

There was shuffling from inside, then a soft click, and the door swung open.

Taeyong stared back at him, his platinum gray hair soft around his ears and his eyes wide as he stared at Doyoung, the oversized sweater close to sliding off his shoulders.

He looked so fucking perfect, and Doyoung almost swallowed his tongue. He almost turned around and walked away, but the fear of messing up a social interaction like that was worse than just talking to him.

“Doyoung.” Taeyong breathed, low and breathy.

“Can I come in?” Doyoung said, a bit too quickly and too loudly, and he winced.

Taeyong nodded quickly, stepping aside so Doyoung could enter, and closing the door behind him.

Doyoung paused, trying to gather his thoughts as he watched Taeyong play with his fingers nervously.

“Listen, before you say anything,” Taeyong cut in. “I wanted to apologize. I’d been forcing my way into your house and your life without taking into account how it would affect you and I’m– I’m really sorry.”

Doyoung stared. “You don’t have to apologize. I wanted you there. I always wanted you whenever I could get you.”

Taeyong looked up at him, beautiful eyes too wide with confusion, shifting closer. “When you could get me?”

Doyoung swallowed, letting his eyes roam over Taeyong’s face, his body. “You felt so out of reach. I didn’t let myself hope I could have you outside of those times you came to me.” The words were raw and honest, pulled out almost unintentionally.

Taeyong gasped. “Me? You thought I was out of reach?”

Taeyong’s eyes were shining with suppressed tears and his face seemed uncertain. Doyoung nodded, wondering how wonderful, amazing Taeyong could possibly see himself as anything but the angel he was.

“You were always so busy, so kind and wonderful and I thought you wouldn’t want to deal with someone like me.” Taeyong said, so soft it was almost a whisper.

Doyoung stepped closer. “Taeyong, I didn’t answer my texts for a week because I was anxious and thought throwing myself into work would fix it. I’m a damn mess, and I think you’re the most beautiful, messy, perfect person I’ve ever seen.”

Taeyong wrapped his arms around Doyoung’s neck, drawing him close enough to feel his breath on his face.

“Yeah? Well, I might be just a little bit in love with you.” Taeyong breathes out, warm on Doyoung’s cheek.

Then he moves forward to close the gap between them, slotting their lips together.

And they’d done this a million times before, in the darkness of Doyoung’s living room, on the way to his bed. But this time felt so different, so new, so perfect.

Maybe cause Taeyong wasn’t a mistake, anymore. Never really had been, but now Doyoung let himself admit it.

Kissing Taeyong was beautiful, all consuming, wonderful, and Doyoung got to have him now, all of him, all the time.

Some habits never, die, and Doyoung had no intention to give this one up any time soon.

**Author's Note:**

> The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life! Remember to separate fiction from reality folks.
> 
> -
> 
> Having anxiety can be a bitch, and I really projected hard onto Doyoung here. I hope you enjoyed reading this! Doyoung and Taeyong are so much fun to write, I adore their dynamic! Let me know what you think!
> 
> Title from City Lights by Yunho feat. Taeyong, played on repeat as I wrote this, please listen to it it's so good!


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